


Dream a Little Dream of Me

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Azazel Was a Decent Ish Father, Criminal!Dean, Dark fic, Dreams Are Real, FBI Agent!Sam, Hallucinations, Incest, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, M/M, Mentioned Bottom!Dean, Mild Sexual Content, Past Kidnapping, SAM HAS DOGS THIS IS IMPORTANT, dark!Sam, mentioned top!sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: Sam takes Dean back to his house, but as usual, things aren’t what they seem





	Dream a Little Dream of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhisperingMagpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingMagpie/gifts).



> So this is for the wonderful @cravingsubjugation!! They’ve been wanting this for a while and I got inspired so here you go, love! 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11898300
> 
> This is the LONG AWAITED SEQUEL to the fic Federal Temptations, which there’s the link if you haven’t read that fic yet. It is HIGHLY RECOMMENDED THAT YOU DO. Otherwise, this won’t make sense. 
> 
> Much thanks to @talkmagically for talking me through ideas for the ending.

Sam Wesson re-entered the interrogation room about forty five minutes after he left Dean Winchester to his own devices. He knew that Dean would find the black folder, discover that he was actually Dean’s long lost, thought to be dead baby brother and would be a bit emotional about it, but if he knew Dean, he knew that the man would bottle it up and hide away his emotions when Sam was there. 

So when Sam re-entered Interrogation Room 4, he didn’t comment on how his briefcase was in complete disarray. He didn’t comment on how Dean’s face looked like he had been crying for hours. He didn’t comment on anything, just set down a burger, some fries, and a large cup of black coffee in front of the fugitive with a bright, somewhat cold smile. “There you go. Just what the wanted man ordered.” 

Dean cocked his head and quirked his lips up into a semblance of a cocky smirk. “You know how to play fetch well, Sammy,” he said. 

“It’s  _ Sam, _ ” Sam reiterated. No one could call him Sammy. No one. Not even Father called him Sammy. “Or Agent. It’s up to you. But it’s never been Sammy.” 

Dean whistled lowly and watched Sam as the federal agent gathered everything up and neatly stowed it back in his briefcase. “Touched a nerve?” he asked. 

“Sammy is what you call your snot nosed little brother to embarrass him on the first day of high school,” Sam replied, clicking his briefcase shut before sitting down in the chair across from Dean, putting his feet up on the desk. He noticed Dean’s eyes watching him, before he involuntarily flinched and went back to eating. “Not what you call the federal agent who beat and fucked your ass like you deserve.” 

Dean snorted and put on a whimsical smile. The puffy red eyes suited the older man quite nicely. It brought out that beautiful shade of green- something from John Winchester, no doubt. “Sure,” he drawled. One could tell he was born and raised in Kansas. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night, Sammy.” 

Sam arched an eyebrow in warning. “Sounds like someone wants to be reacquainted with my belt very soon,” he commented. 

Dean flushed. Actually full on blushed, and Sam couldn’t help but let out a laugh, dimples shining through on his face. 

“You look beautiful like that,” he purred. “Brings out all of your freckles.” 

Dean rolled his eyes but preened slightly at the compliment. Sam filed that away for later information. 

He knew that the man he had just spanked and fucked was his older brother. He’s known that for a while. The yarn he spun about not knowing who his parents were was a lie, one to get Dean to trust him. He knew that the trust had been shattered, since Dean now knew that he had been fucked by his own little brother- and  _ liked  _ it (Sam’s had too many sexual partners to know when someone is or isn’t enjoying it), but it doesn’t matter. He couldn’t see this man as his older brother. He had no siblings; there was only Father. And he could never see the man known as John Winchester in that capacity. Azazel had spun a tale about how John was abusive towards his son, and Sam could see it as plain as day in Dean Winchester. Sam is thankful that while his father was strict, he was kind as well. The yellow eyes did take some getting used to, but Azazel never raised a hand against Sam, and hardly ever raised his voice. In fact, Sam  _ knew  _ he was in trouble when Azazel’s voice lowered. A softer voice, Sam learned, was more powerful than a loud one. 

That’s not to say Azazel never got angry. Oh no, Azazel got angry plenty of times, but no matter how upset Azazel was, he always made sure that he knew Sam was loved. Something John Winchester never did with his ‘surviving’ son, and the evidence was in front of Sam, plain as day. 

“Where’s your father now?” Sam asked. He honestly didn’t know; John Winchester had fallen off the FBI radar once Dean started making more of a ruckus. 

Dean shrugged. “Ditched him about four years ago,” he admitted. “Maybe longer. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. The cloying. The drills. Not being able to do things my own way. No respect. He respects my dead brother more than me.” 

Sam arched a brow. “You have a dead brother?” he asked carefully. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. He was killed in a house fire with my mom on his sixth month birthday,” he said in a matter-of-fact way. “Don’t know who set it off but it was. . . Someone who didn’t like my mom. Or something. That’s when Dad really went crazy though.” 

Sam nodded. 

“How come you didn’t have a mom?” Dean asked curiously. “Didn’t your dad think he couldn’t raise you without help?” 

“I don’t think it ever crossed his mind, honestly,” Sam said pleasantly. “He mentioned he was married, once, but she passed away tragically. He never said how.” He shrugged, grabbing his own cup of coffee and taking a sip. “Love of his life sort of thing, I guess. He never remarried.” 

“Where’s he at now?” Dean asked. 

“Abroad,” Sam said calmly. “He’ll call to check in in a day or two. Most likely.” He shrugged. “Father’s pretty much let me do my own thing since I graduated Stanford, and I let him do his.” 

“More illegal adoptions?” Dean sneered. 

Sam cocked his head to the side. “Millions of children go unadopted each year, despite there being plenty of loving, caring parents that would love a child but can’t. And the legal channels, if we’re to be serious, take an awfully long time and more money than it’s worth. Black market adoption helps these children.” 

“You were  _ kidnapped, _ ” Dean growled. 

“Maybe,” Sam shrugged, “but how do I know that I wouldn’t have grown up in an abusive home if I hadn’t been?” 

Dean fell silent at that. Obviously, the criminal didn’t have an answer for that. 

“I grew up feeling  _ loved,  _ Dean,” Sam said softly. “And I grew up wanting to help people because of that. Regardless of how I came to Father, he raised me as his own. The man who was my biological father? Couldn’t hold a candle to Father. Father used to say that blood may be thicker than water, but if blood was spilled it hurt more.” 

Dean nodded. “My uncle- well, he ain’t really my uncle, but he was my dad’s best friend, so it was  _ like  _ an uncle- said that family don’t end or begin with blood,” he said. 

Sam nodded. “That’s right, Dean.” 

There was a knock on the door and Sam stood up to get it, smiling brightly at Brady. “Hey.” 

“Hey, everything holding on here?” Brady said. “Get him to talk?” 

“A little,” Sam said evasively. “Listen, I’m going to need permission to place him in my home.” 

“Are you insane, Wesson?” Brady hissed. “This is  _ Dean Winchester  _ we’re talking about, not some hot piece of ass that you picked up at the bar.” 

“Do you want to lose him, Brady?” Sam asked with an arched brow. “I can’t stay here and watch him. Besides, imagine the paperwork that we’d have to go through if he escapes from here. Read his file. He’s a master at escaping. And we both know you wouldn’t resist his hot ass if he offered it up in exchange for helping him escape.” 

Brady flushed darkly. “You make it sound like I’m an animal, Sam,” he grumbled. 

“You are,” Sam winked. “Please, Brady? My house is the most secure.” 

“You have a fuckin’  _ fortress, _ with  _ dogs, _ ” Brady grumped. “Fine. I’ll get that paperwork and permission in for you.” 

“Thank you,” Sam said sincerely, kissing Brady’s cheek. “You’ll get laid again soon, baby boy.”    
Brady shoved at Sam. “Beat it, Wesson.” 

Sam laughed and smacked Brady’s ass as the other agent walked away. Brady yelped and Sam cackled before ducking back into the interrogation room to Dean’s wide eyes. 

“You’ve fucked your own coworker? Isn’t that, like, unethical?” Dean asked. 

“Well, so is fucking a wanted fugitive in an interrogation room,” Sam said with a shrug. “Ethics and morals hold us back a lot of the time. Besides, Brady’s easily persuaded by mentioning sex.” He smirked at the older man. “Jealous?” 

“Not really,” Dean smirked cockily. “I got you most recently, after all.”  

Sam chuckled and returned to his chair, propping his feet up again and loosening his tie. He watched Dean’s eyes flicker from hands to neck to eyes before looking away again, expression guarded. “So. . . what’s the deal with me moving in with you?” the criminal asked, obviously trying not to think of what he knew. 

“Precaution,” Sam said, waving his hand expansively. “You’ve got a knack for getting out of places that are heavily guarded by people, and you’ve already used your tight little ass to get out of slippery situations before.”

Dean flushed again. “Yeah, I figured you were a hardass and weren’t going to let me go after you had your way with me,” he grunted. 

Sam gave a small, cold smile. “But others in this building will. I won’t.” 

“Aww, come on,” Dean grinned, flashing his patented charm at Sam. It was honestly cute. “I’ll let you have another free round if you do.” 

Sam laughed and reached over to pinch Dean’s cheeks, much to the criminal’s chagrin. “Adorable,” he deadpanned. “But I know your tricks, Dean. It won’t work on me. So, I’m requesting permission to house you at my residence until you offer your complete and full cooperation.” 

Dean snorted. “And what makes you think that I won’t be able to escape from your house?” he asked. 

“Well, for one, we’d be fitting you with an ankle monitor,” Sam mentioned. “Two, I am a light sleeper. Not out of any sense of need, just always have been. Another reason is my dogs.” 

“Your. . . dogs,” Dean said flatly. 

“Yes,” Sam smiled brilliantly. “Beautiful, large dogs. That protect the house and myself. Not to mention, there’ll be rules for you to follow.”

“I break the rules,” Dean smirked. “Not seeing how that’s going to work in your favor.” 

Sam steepled his fingers together, aware that it made him look like some sort of lackadaisical Bond villain. “We’ll see.” 

 

It took three hours for Brady to come back with the permission and ankle monitor Sam needed in order to take Dean home for the next few days. During that time, Sam had put Dean to work. Dean’s not sure if he’s ever going to be able to deep throat a cock Sam’s size, but he enjoyed it. 

And didn’t that disgust him. 

This was his younger brother. Granted, they’ve never met until now, and they certainly didn’t grow up together, but. . . It was still his brother. 

And as far as he knew, Sam didn’t know. The newspaper clippings were from all four children that he knew were kidnapped with a fire on their six month birthday, the Winchester one just stood out and it made sense to Dean. Knowing who Sam was made things worse. 

He knew he could convince himself that Sam wasn’t his brother. He knew that he could. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to hold onto that knowledge to use it when the time was right. 

Not to hurt Sam; no, never. Just to shock him. 

“Thank you, Brady,” Sam said pleasantly, standing up and walking over to the blond that had walked in. Brady was slimmer than Dean was and had dark blue eyes, but he did have a nice ass. No wonder Sam had fucked him. “Director have any words for me?” 

“Nah, he just mumbled. Oh, and your phone rang,” Brady said. “I took a message. It’s your old man.” 

Sam’s mouth split into a grin. “I’ll call him back before I leave, thanks Brady.” 

“You’re welcome,” Brady hummed, kissing Sam’s cheek chastely. “Need anything else?” 

“No, I think I’m good,” Sam murmured. “Run along now. I’ll call Father before I take Winchester home.” 

Brady smirked at the still bound Dean. Dean felt an irrational hatred towards the other FBI agent. “I’ll be drowning in paperwork,” he said before leaving. 

Sam smiled and walked over, holding up the ankle monitor and the paperwork. “Ta-da.” 

“Splendid,” Dean said dryly. 

Sam sat down and picked up the phone, dialing something. 

“Checkin’ voicemail?” Dean asked cheekily. 

Sam shook his head, “dialing my phone, then using a callback feature to call Father back- he’s using one of his international cells, and I’m not going to try all of them.” 

Dean nodded in understanding, watching Sam’s face. He looked. . . almost excited to call his dad. Dean’s not sure when the last time he felt excited to call his father. He felt excited when he realized he didn’t have to check in with his dad every time he did something. And there was no disapproval for the fact that Dean was a prostitute. None whatsoever. 

“Father,” Sam’s voice said and Dean started. It was the warmest Dean’s heard from the FBI Agent yet. He looked up and there was a soft smile on Sam’s face. He really was handsome when he smiled. “I’m glad to hear from you.” 

There was a pause and Sam laughed quietly as he listened to his father. Well, the man who raised Sam. Not his father- John Winchester was his father. “I’m fine, Father. I haven’t worked myself to death, I was in the middle of an interrogation.”

Another pause, another soft laugh from Sam. “I’ll take a break once this perp’s where he belongs. We’ll see how he likes Lewisburg. And then I’ll come on one of your vacations with you. I promise.” 

Oh there was no  _ way  _ he was going to go to Lewisburg. No fucking way. He needed to get out. He absolutely needed to get out. 

He looked around the desk before realizing that there was nothing he could pick the lock with. His eyes met Sam’s, and Sam smirked. 

_ Fucking asshole. _

“Oh, I’d  _ love  _ to go back to London,” Sam hummed, still talking to the yellow eyed man. “I didn’t finish my tour of Whitechapel when I was there last. I’ll talk to the boss when the perp’s safely locked up. Would you believe I have to take him home?” 

Another pause, longer this time and Sam sighed, an almost affectionate smile of exasperation crossed it. “ _ Father. _ I’ll be fine. Lucifer and Gadreel will keep me safe. Not to mention that it’s house arrest, essentially. Besides, I’d rather have him home then have to spend months attempting to recapture him because people think with their dick and not with their heads.” 

Dean grunted, crossing his arms. 

“Yes, Father. I’ll be careful. I always am.” Sam picked up a post-it note and scrawled something on it. “So you’ll be home on Thursday? Oh, that reminds me, Uncle Ramiel called. He wants you to call him- something about Grandpa. No, he didn’t say. Uncle Ramiel doesn’t tell me anything, you know this, Father.” 

Dean sulked in his seat, glaring at the ankle monitor. He just hoped that the drive back to Sam’s house was a long one. He might be able to escape during the drive. Maybe. 

“Don’t forget to call Aunt Dagon tomorrow- or, rather, later today,” Sam added, “it’s her birthday.”

There was a shorter pause and Sam smiled. “Thank you, Father. Get some sleep.” 

Another pause, Sam smiling. “I love you too, Father. I’ll talk to you soon.” He hung up and smiled at Dean. 

“Lewisburg? You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Dean sputtered. 

“Nope. Be glad it’s not ADX Florence,” Sam said calmly. He swung his legs off of the desk again and stood up, hefting the ankle monitor in his hand. “Let’s get this on you and head on out. I’ve got two hungry dogs to feed.” 

 

It took the threat of being made to sleep outside naked to convince Dean to wear the ankle monitor with minimal fuss, and maybe Sam slammed the monitor onto Dean’s ankle a little too tightly, but he had been fighting and arguing with Dean about it for forty-five minutes, and Sam’s patience was not infinite. The talk with Father put him in good spirits, though, so it was just wanting to get home so he could feed Lucifer and Gadreel, eat something himself, and get to bed. Oh, and put Dean down for the night. 

He got Dean out to the Prius and put the child lock on the door, much to Dean’s chagrin. 

“Come on, Sammy!” he whined as Sam circled around to the driver’s side and slid in. He rattled his handcuffs in front of him as he did so. “Not much I can do, is there?” 

“I’m not stupid, Dean,” Sam huffed, ignoring the  _ Sammy  _ comment. He adjusted his mirrors before buckling himself in and turning the car on. 

“ _ Next up on ‘Unsolved Mysteries’- we’ll discuss the case of the mysterious murder in Room 1046.” _

“Seriously?” Dean snorted derisively. “Can’t we listen to music or something?” 

Sam fixed him with a steely glare before moving to back out of the parking lot. “My car, my rules. Which means you get to listen to the podcast with me. Now shut up. I want to hear this one.” 

Dean grunted but allowed Sam his silence, for which Sam was thankful for. 

He knew he’d have to relisten to this podcast later anyways, but he didn’t mind too much. The murder in Room 1046 was one of his favorite unsolved cases of all time, and he was just wondering how the facts of the case were going to be presented. Instead of wholly listening, Sam thought about what he needed to do when he got home. Feed Lucifer and Gadreel, for certain- his poor puppies must be in dire need of food. He needed to put fresh linens on the bed in the guest room for Dean, and arm the security system. He needed to eat himself- he never eats in the interrogation room with the perps (too many things that could go wrong) and the salad he had for dinner was a long time ago. 

He rolled out his neck as he drove, his eyes darting over to where Dean was curled against the door, eyes closed. He knew that the criminal wasn’t sleeping, just merely resting, and Sam couldn’t say that he blamed him. He felt like curling up and falling asleep too. He had been at the office since eight that morning and it was now. . . He glanced at the clock in his car. Two in the morning. Fantastic. 

“ _ Nobody could figure out who the mysterious ‘Don’ was, if that was even his real name, _ ” the podcast continued before stopping, and Sam looked at the screen before smiling and hitting ‘accept call’. 

“Hey, Uncle Asmo,” he greeted. 

“ _ Hey, kiddo. Your old man called, wanted to check in with you myself, _ ” his uncle Asmodeus said. 

Dean grunted and curled into the seat more. 

“I’m doing good, Uncle Asmo,” Sam assured his uncle, keeping an eye on Dean. He didn’t trust the criminal. “It’s just been a long day at the office. Usually is when they call me in for interrogation.” 

“ _ I can only imagine. You manage to crack him? _ ” Asmodeus asked. 

Sam easily merged into the left lane. “Not quite yet, but I just got him tonight. I also am responsible for him, I’ve gotta keep him at my house. Little slut would get out of the building by offering himself up.” 

Dean snarled and Sam silenced him with a glare while Asmodeus chuckled. 

“ _ And you’re a smart enough man to use the brain God gave you,”  _ Asmodeus said. 

“That’s right. You and Father taught me well,” Sam smiled. “I told him once I get the perp to confess or do whatever I need to do to put him in Lewisburg, I’ll take a vacation with him. I’ve been wanting to go back to London, I never got to tour Whitechapel while I was there.” 

“ _ That’s how I knew you were going to go FBI, Sam, _ ” Asmodeus laughed. “ _ Between you and your aunt, the talk of serial killers and unsolved mysteries never end. _ ” 

“We all have to have our sick hobbies,” Sam shrugged, making a left turn to start down the dark gravel road that was the driveway to his house. 

“ _ Be careful, Sam.”  _ Asmodeus sounded urgent. “ _ Your father’s business may end up finding you. _ ” 

“I will, Uncle Asmo,” Sam promised, smiling to himself. “You keep Father out of too much trouble, and I’ll visit you soon.” 

“ _ Of course, Sam. Don’t forget to call Dagon tomorrow.”  _

“I know, uncle Asmo. I won’t,” Sam reassured his uncle. “Take care, uncle Asmo.” 

“ _ I will. _ ” 

Asmodeus hung up and Sam looked out at the stately farm house that his uncle Ramiel gave to him as a present when he graduated from Quantico. Pulling into the garage, he roughly shoved Dean to ‘wake’ him up. 

Dean grunted and snarled. 

“We’re here,” Sam said simply, closing the garage door and unlocking the doors, getting out and stretching. As much as he loved his little Prius for the efficiency and the difference it will eventually make on the environment, he  _ hated  _ how cramped he was inside the small car. 

“Good,” Dean grunted, getting out of the car and stretching the best he could with the handcuffs on. 

Sam grabbed his bicep and walked with him into the house, grinning as he heard the nails clicking on the floor. “Lucifer! Gadreel!” he called as he stepped into the house after shoving Dean inside. “Daddy’s home!” 

Two large Dobermans came careening around the corner and they both jumped on their master, eagerly wanting to lick his face and receive lots of petting, barking happily. 

“Those are my good boys, yes you are!” Sam crooned as he ran his fingers through their short fur. 

One of them took notice of Dean and snarled, barking loudly. Dean jumped, taking a step back. 

“Gadreel, stand down,” Sam ordered, walking over to Gadreel and rubbing his back, the other one following Sam at his heels. “It’s just somebody from Daddy’s work, he won’t be here long, I promise.” 

Gadreel barked again, panting as Sam rubbed him down. 

“I know, I know, my big strong protector,” Sam murmured. “Daddy’s sorry.” He looked up at Dean with a sheepish smile. “He’s not a big fan of strangers,” he admitted. 

“I see,” Dean said warily, making eye contact with the dog that wasn’t barking at him, just sitting patiently near Sam. He jerked his chin at him. “What about the other one?” 

“Lucifer? Oh, Lucifer’s an old police dog,” Sam explained, “and he was kind of forced into retirement- his human partner was killed in the line of duty. I was the only one he’s taken to since then, but he’s always been kind of quiet unless he feels I’m threatened.” He patted Gadreel’s belly, and the dog that had been barking licked his face. “Gadreel here, though, is just super overprotective of us. Aren’t you? Protective of Daddy and of Luci.”  

Gadreel barked again, this time happily, and Dean couldn’t help but kind of smile. It was kind of cute. 

“Are my puppies hungry? Hmm?” Sam asked, standing up and going over to where a giant bag of food was. 

The dogs ran after their owner, tails wagging and tongues out as Sam filled their bowls and made sure that they had plenty of water. He loved his dogs, and they loved him. They would lay down their lives for him. Patting their heads while they noisily ate, Sam beckoned for Dean to follow him. 

He knew his prisoner would follow, curious as Sam turned on the light to the kitchen and he sat Dean down. “Hungry?” he asked. 

“Not really, just thirsty,” Dean admitted. 

Sam nodded and filled up a glass of water for Dean, letting Dean take in his surroundings. There wasn’t much to go by; there were a few pictures of Sam and his family hung up. 

“Who’s that?” Dean asked, pointing to a picture of Sam in his graduation robes from Stanford and an arm wrapped around an older man with a salt and pepper beard and a white suit. 

“That’s my uncle Asmo,” Sam said brightly as he threw a TV dinner into the microwave. Not the healthiest thing, but he knew he could run it off in the morning. “That was when I graduated from Stanford.” 

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Dude, he looks like an evil version of Colonel Sanders,” he said. 

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “You’re not the first to make that comparison,” he said with a chuckle. 

Dean nodded, pointing to a picture of Sam from a couple years ago, gangly limbs wrapped around a different man’s neck outside the house they were in now. “And he?” 

“Uncle Ramiel,” Sam confirmed with a smile. 

The microwave beeped and Sam took his meal out, handing Dean his water before sitting down and starting to eat. “He bought and fixed the house up for me as a graduation present when I graduated from the FBI Academy.” 

Dean nodded, drinking his water and letting silence fill the air before asking another question. “Did you ever wonder what it would’ve been like to have been with. . . your family that is biological related to you?” he asked. 

Sam hummed. He really hadn’t. Never had. They couldn’t hold a candle to Father and his aunt and uncles. “Not really,” he admitted. “Maybe occasionally, but it was always very fleeting.” 

Dean arched a brow. 

“What?” Sam scoffed. “I grew up in a loving home. Father is my father.” 

“What about. . . you know, medically?” Dean asked. “That shit’s important.” 

Sam shrugged. “I know my biological father has a history of heart conditions and my mother’s side of the family has a history of skin cancer- they were very fair skinned,” he explained. “And I know a couple of other things, but I’m healthy. And happy. Father never really hid the fact that I was adopted from me. And he left it up to me if I ever wanted to find my birth parents and all of that. But I never wanted to. I know I was kidnapped, but maybe it was to save me. Why would I want to know the parents who could’ve potentially hurt me?” 

Dean nodded, taking a sip of water. “Did you ever think you could’ve had siblings?” he asked. 

“I know I have a brother out there,” Sam said, chewing the last bit of his meal. “But he probably thinks I’m dead. Does it matter?” 

Dean stared at Sam and Sam patiently waited for anything Dean might have to say, but the criminal fell silent. “No, I guess not.” 

Sam smiled. “Good. I trust you’ll be good and not try to leave, so I’m going to go put fresh sheets on the guest bedroom bed.” He got up, tossing the tray his food came on into the trash and headed to the guest bedroom, leaving Dean to his thoughts. 

 

It had been two days. Two days since Dean came back to Sam’s and he was going crazy. 

It was actually somewhat pleasant. Because Sam was responsible for him, Sam got to stay home with him and that meant. . . well, a lot more fucking. Sam was a cruel Dom who knew that Dean was eager to please and would do whatever it takes to maybe let him free. The blasted ankle monitor kept him tethered, especially because Sam would get updates of Dean’s location every fifteen minutes sent directly to his phone. 

Dean loved being fucked and used like Sam was doing, but. . . he couldn’t help but feel  _ wrong  _ about liking it. Sam was his little brother, for fuck’s sake. Nevermind that Sam was about as warm as snow, especially when it came to the Winchester family. Sam was still his little brother, so why the fuck was he enjoying the sex? 

He was perverted, and he was going to Hell. 

Sam made sure he was well fed and there were a few times, when Sam locked himself in his ‘study’, that Dean took to wandering around the house. Unfortunately, he oftentimes had a companion. 

Gadreel had taken himself to being the watchful eye when Sam wasn’t looking. Lucifer usually stayed with Sam, but it was apparent that Gadreel distrusted Dean and did not want him out of his sight. Dean didn’t mind too much, as looking around gave him insight to the FBI agent who was holding him as a legal hostage. 

Sam was a kinky motherfucker, although Dean knew that from the moment they met. He was into athletics and was a giant nerd. The library down in the basement had hundreds of books, and several of them were about the biggest FBI cases, as well as several old novels. Dean was surprised, yet pleasantly pleased to see Vonnegut on his shelves, and he had actually spent some time reading down in the basement. 

He found magazines and old case files that he read over. He learned Sam had his degree in pre-law and that he was actually bisexual. He was engaged to a lovely nursing student by the name of Jessica Moore, but Jessica had tragically died in an apartment blaze during Sam’s final year of school. 

He learned Sam liked to eat healthy and that he absolutely adored his dogs and his ‘family’- Dean couldn’t accept the man that Sam called ‘Father’ as his father, and wouldn’t. 

He couldn’t deny, however, that Azazel gave Sam a childhood. There were pictures of Sam learning how to ride a bike, growing up with a dimpled smile and rosy skin. Ramiel taught him how to swim when Sam was six; ‘Asmo’ taught Sam about dressing well when he was ten; Dagon bought Sam his first book about serial killers in a picture that Sam’s caretaker had marked as Sam’s fifteenth birthday party. 

Sam looked happy, and Sam had experiences that Dean never had. 

He couldn’t help but have irrational hatred of the man that Sam spoke of as his father- because he gave Sam what Dean never had. Dean’s childhood was filled with diners and cheating and stealing since he was four.

Dean learned and the more he learned, the more he realized that he was going to have to kill his own baby brother in order to escape. Sure, he was going to incur the wrath of two Dobermans, but he could get rid of the dogs too. 

Right? Right. 

 

He waited until nightfall to sneak out of his room and down the hall to where an old gun with a pentagram etched into it was encased in glass on the wall. He took the wall hanging off and stuffed it under a pillow before using his elbow to smash it open. 

When he retrieved the gun from the glass and the bed, he checked to see how many bullets were in it. 

There were two. 

He couldn’t miss Sam. He just couldn’t. 

He took a deep breath and wrestled with his conscience once again. Dean Winchester was not a murderer, and he certainly didn’t want to kill his own baby brother. 

But he had to. To escape. To live free. And to keep his memory of his baby brother pure. 

Taking another deep breath, he quietly sneaked out of his bedroom and down the hall to where Sam’s bedroom door was closed. He checked for the dogs in the laundry room, and they were sound asleep.

He quietly opened the door to Sam’s bedroom, struggling to keep in a snort at the sight of Sam sprawled out on a king sized mattress, sleeping away. Snoring, as a matter of fact. 

Taking a deep breath, he lined up his shot with Sam’s head. He couldn’t miss. He was an excellent shot. 

A deep growl was heard behind him, and he looked just as he pulled the trigger. 

Lucifer, the old police dog, was standing there, growling at Dean. 

“It’s okay, Lucifer,” Dean soothed, gasping as the dog pounced on him and went to bite his arm that Dean threw up as a shield. 

“Lucifer! Heel!” Sam barked. 

Dean looked up as Lucifer got off of him, Gadreel standing at the doorway barking his head off. Sam was standing there in nothing but a pair of Saxx boxers and pointing a sleek semi automatic at his head. 

“Trying to escape, are we?” Sam asked as Dean slowly got up, raising the old gun. 

“Nearly did, if your dog hadn’t scared the living daylights outta me,” Dean snapped. 

“Why, Dean?” Sam asked, walking closer to Dean, not lowering the gun. “Why would you want to kill your sweet little brother?” 

Dean took a step back, Gadreel barking even louder. “You knew?” he whispered. 

“Of course I did, Dean,” Sam said in an almost condescending way. “I know my last name is supposed to be Winchester, that John and Mary were my parents and Dean was my brother. I’ve known for a while now.” He smirked darkly, and Dean shuddered. 

“And you still. . .” Dean stammered. “We’re  _ brothers. _ ” 

Sam gave a half shrug. “It’s not like we can get each other pregnant,” Sam said, taking a step towards Dean. “And besides, is it really incest if we didn’t grow up together?” He gave a smile that mocked sadness. “You’re not my brother, Dean. Never have been. We’re just two people who happen to share parents.” 

Dean raised the gun again, shakily cocking back the hammer. His head felt fuzzy, why did his head feel fuzzy? He didn’t hit the ground that hard. 

Sam tsked. “Poor, poor Dean Winchester. Attempted murder of a federal agent.” He gently squeezed the trigger. “Sorry it had to end this way.” 

_ Bang.  _

 

Dean woke up with a gasp. “Sammy!” he croaked. His whole body hurt. 

“Sammy’s dead, son,” John said. 

Dean blinked up at his father, the only constant in his life. “When?” 

“Twenty-six years ago, Dean,” John said in that strong, soothing voice. He brushed his hair back from Dean’s face, seeing the bright green eyes fill with tears. “It’s okay, son.” 

“What happened?” Dean asked, struggling against the nurse’s hold. 

“You got into a car accident, Dean. Nothing your fault, but you got a severe concussion, it could’ve caused you have a really bad dream,” John soothed. 

Dean sobbed and struggled. “I want to see Sam!” he insisted. 

John took a shuddering deep breath. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he whispered before stepping outside as the nurses worked to calm Dean down. He closed the door behind him and looked at Bobby Singer, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I haven’t heard him call out for Sam since Dean was ten,” Bobby said gruffly. “That car crash must’ve thrown him for a loop, huh?” 

John took a deep breath and nodded. “I don’t know what he dreamed about, but I’m not sure I want to,” he admitted. “They’re gonna keep him overnight, just to make sure there isn’t any bleeding in his brain.” He took a seat besides Bobby. “It’s been twenty six years since I lost Mary and Sam, and it still hurts as though it was yesterday,” he grumbled. 

Bobby slapped John’s back. “It doesn’t get easier, just less,” the other man said wisely. 

“I  _ told  _ you to be careful,” an older man said, walking down the hallway towards Bobby and John with a man younger and taller than him. 

The young man laughed. “I told you, Father, this is just what happens when you were for the FBI. The perp’s in prison, and I’m alive.” They stopped near the other two men so the younger one could wrap the older man into a warm hug. “Thank you for picking me up from the hospital, by the way.” 

“You’re more than welcome, Sam,” the older man said. “Now, let’s get going, your uncle Asmodeus is waiting.” 

“Well, we can’t keep uncle Asmo waiting,” the young man laughed as they started walking by Bobby and John. 

John couldn’t help the shudder that went through him as he observed the older man. He couldn’t recognize the man’s facial features, but the man’s eyes he recognized. 

It was the same set of eyes that haunted his nightmares for twenty six years; pale gold and full of malice.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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